


By Train

by lockedin221b



Series: Some Journey [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nudity, Oral Sex, Orders, Partial Nudity, Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:09:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockedin221b/pseuds/lockedin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rebel turned slave is give a choice by his new master: work hard and be treated moderately, or become this strange lord's lover and live easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Train

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flamiekitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamiekitten/gifts).



> Minor/past Viclock. Primarily Johnlock. The lack of naming John and Sherlock is intentional.
> 
> This is the first in a series inspired by one of my favourite song. I'll reveal the song after the sixth and final story is up.

The floor of the train car was layered with thick rugs and soft pillows. In the centre of the pile lounged a man garbed in sheer fabric in reds and greys. The entire compartment was pristine, from the heavy crimson drapes to the glass of absinth held in long, slender fingers, to the man himself and his sharp silver eyes. The only untidy aspect was the man’s hair: thick dark brown curls that were almost comic set among such finery.

He managed to hold an air of ease and control, a tiger who was none too concerned with those around him, but still able to react precisely if an opponent showed itself. He lounged, but his gaze was alert—more than alert. He took in everything around him, from his inanimate comforts to the guards flanking the man who had been brought before him.

And that other man himself. Clean cut and shaven, dirty blond hair, murky blue eyes that were so very alive and watchful, though his direct gaze never left the lord of this train ride. He had been dressed in the loose billowed trousers of deep blue silk all of the lord’s slaves wore. That was all his slaves wore during the summer.

“Go,” he said to his guards, setting aside his absinth on a low table. They never argued their lord’s commands, but such as this clearly made them uneasy.

Once alone with his newest slave, the lord raked his gaze purposefully down the man’s body. His skin was tanned from the sun, muscles taught from discipline and war. The rebels had to be given credit for how they shaped their soldiers. Even his outward expression remained stolid, though the lord could read well beyond such masks. The ex-rebel was taut with anticipation, though not with potential energy. Potential, yes, but not action. It seemed he had quite resigned himself to his fate, if only for the time being. The lord would not be surprised if the ex-rebel turned rebel once more, given the right opportunity.

“You were an officer,” he said slowly, allowing his voice to drag out lazily. “A smart soldier, and a wise man. You surrendered, but not until the last possible moment. Fear death, do you? It’s no shame. Mortality turns most into frightened babes.”

“Not my own,” the slave said, which was quite a bold move in itself, speaking uncommented. His voice was pleasant, a rich wood smoothed incompletely, with just a subtle roughness left in it. “My men’s.”

“Quite noble of you.”

“I don’t fear my own death,” he reiterated.

The lord’s eyes widened with amusement. “That’s what you believe you’re here for, isn’t it? Some ritual execution? So dramatic.”

The slave frowned. “If my beheading isn’t imminent, then it’s quite a risky move to have a rebel in your household.”

“Perhaps some rebels. You’re quite different though, aren’t you?” His gaze narrowed. “A true warrior of the people and the cause. You don’t let hatred for the opposition rule your thoughts, like so many of your former peers. Most men in your position would have already made an attempt on my life, but you hold no hatred toward me.”

“I don’t like you. I don’t like your hold over other human beings, like they’re your property.”

“But they are my property. You’re my property.”

The slave nodded. “At this point, yes. But that’s the way our society works right now. I don’t like it. I was fighting to change it. But I won’t argue that’s how things are.”

“Quite practical, aren’t you?”

“I’m not a fool.”

“I suppose you’re not,” the lord chuckled. “Well, soldier, I have a proposition for you. As you have no doubt noticed by now, I treat those in my possession quite well, so long as they do what’s asked of them. What they are willing to do affects how comfortable their lives are.”

The slave’s posture stiffened, and it made the lord smile’s grow wide and thin.

“At the moment, I’m seeking a new lover.”

“You’ve got dozen of slaves,” the ex-soldier said, doing a remarkable job of keeping his voice steady.

“And those I had interest in have either declined or bored me.”

“What happens when one declines?”

The lord arched a single brow. “I do not mistreat my property. If they decline, they are given other jobs. Their lives are more difficult, but not unfair.”

“Except for the part where they aren’t in control of their own lives.”

“If you’re going to debate politics,” he sighed, “I’ll dismiss you right now, and you won’t have the chance to choose.”

The slave opened his mouth, but a knock on the car door interrupted them.

“Enter,” the lord snapped, scowling deeply.

The door opened minimally and a guard said apologetically, “Everything’s prepared, milord. We depart at your command.”

“Very well. I’m ready.” The door snapped shut, and the lord’s eyes fell back onto the slave. For a moment, they reflected his fiery garb. “I will speak plainly. If you choose to become my lover, and I am satisfied with your performance, you will live comfortably with few other expectations than to come when called upon, no matter time or place. You will be kept close, and you will be well kept. It will be on you to keep me sufficiently interested. When my interest wanes, you will be reduced in status among my household. How well you are kept after that point will depend largely on your success in the position as my lover. If you decline, you will be set to base tasks and base living. Your compliance in either position will dictate how well you are treated.”

The first question, after a long moment of thought, was, “Why me?”

“I interview each of my new slaves. I cannot abide the boring, and you have held my interest thus far. You are physically appealing, but that is secondary.”

The slave nodded slightly, more to himself, as he took in this information. “And if I agree, you’ll parade me around, the rebel you turned into your bed mate?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the lord said with a broad grin. “I have no such intentions. I don’t care for the public eye.” His expression turned to a scowl. “I certainly don’t care for others coveting what is mine.”

The slave went quiet, thoughtful. The silence began to stretch, though, hovering between the edge of admirable and annoying. In the silence, the whistle blew and the train lurched. The slave braced himself, but only by lurching one foot out in front of him, putting his toes against the layers of rugs. The lord watched as he mindfully slid the offending foot backward. There was no request to sit or kneel, though, not even in his expression.

“Where are we going?”

“To my brother’s,” the lord said with no small amount of annoyance. “But that does not affect your decision.”

“It could. Who’s your brother?”

The lord began to seethe with impatience. “A man who would parade you about, and not in luxury.”

“Then I should consider myself lucky, should I?”

“Yes,” he snapped.

The slave smiled. It was mild, but still startling. It was incredibly self-assured, though not quite arrogant. It was short-lived. “If I say yes, but I want to back out before you’re bored of me-”

“You are welcome to do so, though I highly discourage it. I am not fond of my pleasures disappearing before I am done with them.”

“Alright,” he said with a short nod. “For now, I’ll agree.”

The aggravation dissolved and the lord’s mouth curled into a predatory expression. “Wise choice. Strip.”

Though the slave seemed surprised to begin his new position so quickly, he obeyed. He loosened the tie around his hips and pushed the trousers down to his ankles, stepping out and nudging them to the side. He did this with laudable balance as the car swayed with the increasing speed of the train.

Meanwhile, the lord rolled from his side onto his back, lounging into a makeshift couch of pillows, still clothed in wraps of sheer fabric. In this new position, it became clear that the lord had been sitting fully aroused for quite some time. “Have you ever lain with another man?”

“No,” his soon-to-be lover replied.

“Then you have never pleasured another man with your mouth.”

He shook his head.

“I will instruct you, but it would be best if you learned quickly. I do not like repeating myself. Kneel between my legs.”

He did so, resting his shins on the soft rugs, situated with a knee on either side of him.

The lord proved just how loose his clothing was by pulling back a wide swathe of fabric to reveal his thick cock.

The lord began to dictate, and his slave obeyed every command with precision. “Take the shaft firmly and rub your thumb across the head. Yes,” he hissed. “Good. Start just with your tongue. Repeat the motion you just did with your thumb, but around the entire head. Well done. Do it twice more, slowly. Ah! Are you sure that tongue of yours is virgin to man’s cock?” the lord chuckled. “Now round your lips and push down around the head. Not too far, or you’ll gag and ruin everything. If you do well, we’ll work on that another time. Go, keep your lips tight. Suck gently as you sink down. And, yes, that tongue again! You are quite the apt stud- No!” He smacked the side of his slave’s head, causing him to jerk back and off his cock. “Though I’m pleased to know you’re enjoying it, your own needs wait,” the lord snarled.

His lover-in-training nodded, removing his other hand from his own cock. His blue eyes were unwavering, though.

“Start again, with your tongue.” He watched—and, more importantly, felt. Already on the second go, this new lover was refining his movements. He was certainly a promising one. Once he had his lips tightly around the head again, sucking softly, the lord resumed, “Breathe through your nose. Focus. Make a pattern. Go slow.”

The pattern his tongue began to draw across and around the head and glans was not short or simple, and he traced it again and again exactly, sucking whenever his lord commanded it.

“Now move your hand. Form a tight circle—not quite so tight. Yes, perfect pressure. Up and down, slow. I’ll instruct you when to quicken your pace. When I do, suck harder. Good, very good.” He smiled, mostly to himself. He had had expectations for this one, but he was exceeding them wonderfully. “Quicken your pace gradually.” His expert control over his own body began to slip, and his hips thrust every so often into the tight grip of those strong fingers.

He didn’t warn his new lover before he came. It was another trial; he always liked to see how the new ones reacted. This one gagged and coughed, pulling back in shock, which of course only meant having his lord spill onto his face.

As the slave sat back on his haunches, catching his breath and trying to wipe his face clean, the lord breathed heavily and said with a languid, amused tone, “Don’t get it in your eyes. I’m told it burns.”

His new lover looked up at him with a flash of irritation, but he concealed it quickly. Another mark in his favour.

He took in the mess, the swollen lips, the eyes that were still alive, not at all resigned to a simple life of orders. There was still intelligence and wilfulness there, enough to keep him interesting. “Now you can pleasure yourself. Right there. Use my seed and your saliva to lubricate your strokes.”

The slave did not attempt to argue, to lie about how he didn’t need it anymore. It was quite evident he needed it, and he seemed to understand he would not be allowed to take care of himself in private. Certainly not after that performance. He spit a couple times into his hand, already covered in semen from his valiant but pointless attempt to clean his face. In the end, it just made him look more salacious. He slicked the length of his own cock. He tested his master’s desire, obviously keen on getting it over with as quickly as possible. His lord allowed him, at least this time. Despite his minor infraction, his overall performance had been so delicious, his lord allowed him this much.

But he did make his lover look up just before he climaxed. The slave obeyed without hesitation, meeting his lord’s gaze just as he pulled himself over with a low groan.

“Go clean yourself up, and come back here.”

The slave nodded and stood unsteadily. He glanced momentarily at his trousers, but made the right assumption that he would simply dirty them in covering himself up, and it would not be worth asking for a clean pair. So he walked bare-skinned to the car door and slid it open. “I’m to wash and come back here,” he muttered to the guards.

One of the guards guided him through to the next car, where he would be handed off to one of the senior slaves for care and cleaning. Often it was one of their lord’s previous lovers, ideally not one who held some ridiculous sense of jealousy.

In the meantime, another man in royal blue from his waist to his ankles came into the compartment where his lord lay satiated. He carried a brass basin and warm cloth, and without verbal orders began gently wiping what little flesh was uncovered.

“That will do,” the lord said, and his slave nodded and backed away. “My desk.” While he stood and wrapped himself once more, leaving only his face, neck, arms, and feet unclothed in the sheer red and grey fabrics, the slave set aside the basin and cloth. He went to the far wall and unlatched a hidden compartment. He pulled out the small desk and stool, secured the former was a chain to a hook in the wall and returned to pick up the basin.

“Will that be all, my lord?”

The lord stretched with his hands behind his back. His eyes studied the slave for a moment. “I do sincerely hope you don’t become one of the jealous ones, Victor.”

“I wouldn’t be nearly so presumptuous, my lord.” Victor smiled. “How was he?”

“Unpractised, but a fast learner. Not as fast as you, but he certainly improvises better.”

“Do you want to make me jealous, my lord?” But he was obviously insincere.

His lord sat on the stool at his desk, pulling out from a draw beneath parchment, inkwell, and pen. “I would put a task to you, if you are willing to accept.”

“Anything, my lord.”

“Look out for him, as we both know I cannot.”

“Is he not a soldier?”

“A soldier fights the enemy in front of him, not the one in the shadows.”

“I see. You expect he’ll become a target?”

“You were, and you didn’t even come from the rebel stock.”

“Did you tell him the risk, my lord?”

He looked up from the parchment and gave Victor a warning look.

“Apologies, my lord. I should know better.”

The lord nodded curtly. “Tell him if you like. Befriend him. Teach him. Whatever you wish. He is not to be touched, though, by you or any others.”

“Of course, my lord.” There was a knock at the car door, and Victor looked over his shoulder. “Will that be all?”

After a thoughtful second, his lord beckoned him over. He took hold of the back of Victor’s neck and pulled him into a hard kiss, biting his lip and invading Victor’s mouth with his tongue. Victor moved in accord, falling to it like habit. Which, really, was what had finished him for his lord in the end. It became rote for Victor, and rote was boring.

His lord pushed him back and waved him away. He watched from the corner of his eye as Victor stood aside for his replacement, and how the other man could not help but notice the mark their lord had just left on Victor’s mouth. When the predecessor was gone, though, the successor stood quiet in the rattling car, watching his lord scratch away at the parchment.

“You may put your trousers on if you wish. Sleep if you like.” He motioned carelessly to the rugs and pillows.

He didn’t move. “Am I to sleep in your bed as well?” It was an honest question.

“At home, you will have your own quarters attached to mine. But during travels, yes, you will remain by my side at night.”

“Why?”

“No more questions.”

His new lover obliged with silence. After a moment of pondering, he retrieved his trousers. Instead of putting them on, though, he folded them neatly and set them in the corner. Then he crawled onto the rugs and stretched out, still nude. The lord smiled to himself, though he did not allow himself to look until he was certain the man was sleeping. When he did turn his gaze to him, he was more than pleased with his decision.


End file.
